


Tonight, Eventually

by Lunatic_Lullaby



Category: Batman (Comics), Catwoman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Halloween, No 52, One Year Later Baby Helena, as a teenager, happy fluff, post-adoption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2018-12-14 21:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunatic_Lullaby/pseuds/Lunatic_Lullaby
Summary: You can't take a baby to the Batcave and not expect them to one day hit the streets in a homemade costume and fight crime.





	Tonight, Eventually

**Author's Note:**

> Written and originally posted in October of 2012 for Bradygirl_12's Halloween challenge.
> 
> This was a speculative future fic written about the version of Helena Kyle who was born after Infinite Crisis, introduced during One Year Later in Catwoman and given up for adoption. We only met her as a baby (walking and talking but under two) but she was babysat by Robin in the Batcave, rode in the Batmobile in a carseat and happily reached for fully costumed superheroes more than once. Bruce held her and smiled at her while wearing the cowl and she called him 'Baa-man.' She cheered at the sight of Robin and called him 'Wed' because of his costume's color. I am forever done.
> 
> This supposes Helena's early exposure to the Cat, Bat and Robin as a baby could have contributed to a child who grew up as a hero enthusiast, feeling a comforting connection to them even if she couldn't remember the source of those feelings.

Everyone knew the latest Robin was a girl, so Helena didn't know why she still couldn't find Robin costumes in the girls' section at any of the costume shops or department stores in Gotham. In the end she had made her own, hunting on e-bay for just the right combat boots to pair with her red tights and black spandex shorts. She cannibalized a boy's costume for the iconic Robin crest and stitched it onto a black ski vest with the snaps painted yellow, wearing it over her favorite Robin-red turtle neck, rolling the collar down so that it wouldn't peek out from under her black cape. She slipped on a pair of black fingerless motorcycle gloves - lamenting that her mother had said 'no' to brass knuckles - and then buckled on her utility belt, bright yellow and brand new from the hardware store.  
  
Finishing her look with red visor sunglasses, she struck a pose in the mirror and admired herself as one of the most badass heroes in the world. Gathering the slick material of her cape over her fingers, she swished it around in front of her, dropping into a crouch and giving her reflection a mischievous smile as she imagined that she was posing for a publicity still with the Teen Titans in New York, playing up the mystery that surrounded Gotham's special brand of nighttime guardians. All she needed was a partner like Batgirl, Impulse or Dart and she'd be ready to take down the Injustice League in a snap.

  
Her phone started playing the Addams Family theme song in one of the pouches of her utility belt and she stood to answer the call, cutting it off at _altogether ooky._ This was the one time of year when having her red cell covered in black bat stickers didn't mark her out as a cape follower.

  
"My heel snapped," Laura said without any greeting, "so Supergirl's wearing sneakers tonight. Wanna walk and meet up at the corner of Green and Langdon?"

  
"Definitely," Helena agreed. "It's too nice out to drive anyway," she said as she peeked through her blinds, watching the red and orange leaves gently drifting through their sleepy suburbia street. The earliest trick-or-treaters were just starting to hit the sidewalks, little ghosts and witches swinging pumpkin and cauldron shaped pails. Two years ago that would have been her, holding her father's hand and proudly going door to door as Wonder Girl or Spoiler, running around like she'd already gotten into the stash of candy she was building up. She smirked as she remembered confronting a little boy who was dressed as the Riddler one year, scaring him half to death when she started throwing cardboard batarangs at him. Laura had joined the fight and got her braided gold twill rope lassoed around him before any of their parents could intervene; the poor kid had toppled right over when she pulled on it.

At fourteen, all of that was long packed away and they were going to a school Halloween party with their friends instead of terrorizing the streets. She expected that like the year before there would be a mix of hip and classically cheesy music, fruit punch, cupcakes - hopefully with candy bats on the frosting again - and Mr. Walken's made-from-scratch pumpkin bread, which he'd promised to the students during class that week. Candy or no, she looked forward to messing around with her friends, doing the Monster Mash like they weren't almost high school students and taking stupid pictures of themselves with their classmates dressed as ghouls and hobgoblins to post on the internet. It was only a sliver of nostalgia that made her look at the street consideringly, thinking of how much candy might fit in the pouches on her utility belt.

  
"We're too old for trick or treating," Laura cut her off before she was anywhere near suggesting it.

  
"That was telepathic.  Who are you, Miss Martian?"

  
"Great, now I'll have to mindwipe you to a zombie level in order to protect my secret. You never know when to stop snooping, do you, detective?"

  
She didn't, but looking at examples like Batman and the Oracle, that really didn't seem like a bad thing. "I'll meet you in fifteen minutes, alien. Be ready," she warned playfully, ending the call just to add some gravitas to the line.

Knowing Laura, she'd probably take it to heart and be waiting to jump out at her from the shadows.

  
"Mreow," chided Bruce as she was leaving her room, drawing her back to her bed to stroke the old black tom behind his ears in apology. He was the first cat she'd ever had, an alley stray who she begged her parents to let her keep when she was four. They had looked at the black cat's scruffy fur and thick fighter's body doubtfully but gave in to Helena's childish wish as she teared up at the idea of leaving him all alone to keep fending for himself. She had gradually softened him up into a watchful housecat, though he was still a temperamental scratcher with anyone who he didn't know well enough to like.

  
Bruce was the first of four feline friends who she'd convinced her parents needed to be a part of their family. She sometimes played the adoption card - _they're alone and they need me just like I needed you_ \- and once, for Holly, she had mown neighbor's lawns and done repair chores all summer in order to help compensate for vet bills. She loved her cats for exactly who they were but knew her passion for saving strays was first based in shadow memories of early life, the soft black fur and deep purrs of what had to be her _first_ momma's cats. It could be something imagined but she could swear that even her earliest memory was of a Siamese cat, looking into its clear blue eyes like she was having a staring contest with it, sitting on the floor of a home that she wished she could picture more clearly.

  
"You're staying in tonight, bruiser," she told Bruce as he closed his eyes and basked in her attention. "The last thing I'd want to be is a black cat outside on Halloween, with the way people act up. _We_ know you're a lucky boy, don't we?" His rumbling purr felt like an agreement and she scoffed in her mind at the superstition that said her oldest friend was dangerously bad luck to be around.

  
Checking the time, she left Bruce purring on her bed and went downstairs, stepping around Buffy and Xena as they wrestled with a ball of string in the hallway.

  
"Wow," her father said when she came into the living room. He was sitting with a large bowl of candy on the coffee table, discreetly peeling the wrapper off a chocolate taken as payment for his duty as candy distributor. There was some fake blood smeared across his neck that was sure to frighten at least a few trick or treaters and he had combed white streaks into his brown hair. His fake fangs winked in the light when he smiled but his regular white button down shirt and black slacks made it seem like a half-effort at becoming one of the undead.

  
"Evil doers beware," she intoned, taking a fighting stance.

  
"I'm a nice vampire, I swear. Like those kids from Twilight."

  
She rolled her eyes. "Daddy, have you ever even watched Twilight? If that was what you wanted to be then you should have put a ton of product in your hair and glitter on your face."

  
"Then one of those other valley kid vampire shows," he persisted, "Nights of Our Lives or something like that."

  
"Lame," she chirped, even though she had been watching Fang Gloria for the past four seasons. She held the edges of her cape and prowled into the kitchen while slowly flapping it about like great black wings. "Ta da," she announced to her mother, drawing her attention away from the special treat bags she was wrapping for the trick or treaters who were the children of friends or relatives. "Ooh, popcorn ball, mom I need a popcorn ball."

  
"There's extra for you when you get home," her mother said with a smile. "Well, don't you look fearsome? Who is she again, Flamebird?"

  
"Mom," Helena breathed, absolutely scandalized. "The _Robin_ symbol is _right here,"_ she said slowly, holding her cape aside and pointing to the big yellow R. "And I'm not wearing Christmas colors or orange, so really, _Mother,_ Flamebird? Look, I've even got a birdarang in my utility belt," she carried on, twisting to fish it out when her mother laughed at her.

  
"I'm kidding, Helena. As many posters and hero dolls as I've bought you over the years, I do know the difference."

  
"Totally not funny," she scolded with a pout.

  
"Perhaps even _witchy_ of me?" her mother prodded in an exaggerated way, crooking her fingers to claw at the air with her black painted nails.

  
Helena giggled and stuck her tongue out at the pun. "You look nice," she said as she admired the witch costume her mother had cobbled together. She was wearing a tight, full length black dress with shimmering black beadwork that Helena knew normally made appearances only for formal occasions. Some ghoulish glamor had been added to it with a fluffy black feather boa and a large spider brooch. Black feathers were pinned into her auburn hair and her floppy black witch's hat, decorated with long green ribbons, was sitting beside her on the kitchen table.

  
"Do you know what I am?" she asked.

  
"Don't say it," Helena pled without hope, seeing the joke a mile away.

  
"I'm the Blair Witch," her mother proclaimed, looking all the more smug about it when her daughter rolled her eyes and shook her head in embarrassment.

  
"Haha," she said flatly.

  
"Do you get it?"

  
"Mom, yes. _God."_

  
"Because my name is Blair and -"

  
"And you're a witch, yes, I already said 'ha,' don't make me do it again," she complained, suppressed laughter in her voice in spite of her words. "Laura and I are walking so I'm leaving now, okay?"

  
"I thought you wanted me to drive you. Are you embarrassed to be seen with me now?"

  
_"Yes,"_ she joked carelessly, knowing her mother wouldn't take her seriously. "Later, mom."

  
"Be careful!" her mother called back without worry, a rote warning she had given a thousand times before.

  
~~~~~~~~~~

  
She breathed deep when she stepped outside, taking in the scent of the fallen maple leaves scattered all across the grass and sidewalks. The scent of autumn, even on the nights when it was carried by a biting wind, always brought warmth to mind. It was hot chocolate and cider, fresh cookies and pies, scary movies watched with her friends while huddled under thick blankets late at night. The fiery colors of the falling leaves seemed to echo this, one last blaze of spirit before the trees went into their sleep for the winter.

  
The streets were busy and Helena thought she blended in with the trick or treaters too well for comfort. Part of her felt like she should be announcing that hey, even if she's the same height as some of the kids she's _fourteen,_ really, and going to a party like teenagers do. The rest of her was saying, _well why can't we get some candy?_

  
Little Batmen, teddy bears, fairies and vampires hurried around her, their parents following with flashlights and watching their children like hawks. They crept up the walks to brave jack o' lanterns and skeletons, scarecrows and 'scary sounds' albums played by hidden speakers. She watched as some of the people answering their doors came out in costume, sometimes frightening the poor little monsters looking for candy half to death. Ah, she could still remember whacking a man dressed as a phantom in the leg with her sword one year when she was out as She-Ra - he'd been jumping out at trick-or-treaters from behind a bush next to his front stoop and in her mind, he deserved it.

  
She was on Franklin street before she heard some kids trying to pull off the traditional crime of Halloween - a heartless candy mugging. There were high-pitched, indignant cries of 'give it back' and 'it's mine,' answered by a few voices sneering out that it wasn't theirs anymore and they should just run along now. Helena sighed and searched the lawns for them, spotting the group of kids standing in front of a stretch of houses that had their lights out. If she were five - alright, even if she were ten - she'd get out her fake batarangs and menace the little brats with them. Luckily she knew better after years of trying and failing to right wrongs with painted cardboard or plastic projectiles.

Instead she got out her phone, turned on the camera feature and started filming as she stalked towards them from the opposite side of the road. Like hell were they going to walk away with Snow White and Donald Duck's candy haul.

"Hey," she called to the three boys when she was close enough to easily chase them down if they ran, "you're on camera, idiots. Of all the times to take off your masks, you pick the moment when you're committing a crime?"

  
One goblin slipped his full-cover mask back on, becoming a warty hellion once more. The grim reaper fingered his skull face mask, quietly disconcerted as he realized it was already too late to cover up. Standing at the center, his face painted in heavy black and white make-up, another reaper faced her without his mask or any appearance of defeat.

They regarded her with wariness and disdain, exchanging looks of concern but not dropping the bags of candy they each held. She thought they looked about twelve and she stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the way they were visibly digging themselves in for a fight with her over the rights to processed sugar. _Kids._

"It's just candy," Painted Skull said. "It's not like we're robbing a bank."

  
"Nah, that's probably your endgame. First it's chocolate coins and wax lips, then someday you'll graduate." She deliberately moved the camera over each of them, making a show of capturing them. "Your parents are going to be so proud, right? But tonight, you're going to be good little boys and give those bags to the kids you've just stolen from - the whole bags, 'cause I'm thinking none of that candy is yours - and then you're going to either trick or treat the honest way or go home."

  
"No way."

  
"Okay. Then this is going to the police station." _And Youtube, and Facebook, and then all over the world, where someone is bound to recognize you punks._

  
"We didn't do anything," Painted Skull scoffed in disbelief. "What do you think they'll do over kids taking candy? It's not like Donald Dork over here can't get more."

  
Donald was glaring up at the thief with watery eyes, biting his lip and clearly trying to stay more angry than upset.

  
"Petty theft is still theft. You are all, right now, _unrepentant criminals,_ on camera. So I really suggest that you say you're sorry and cooperate, or this can get ugly."

  
"Just cream 'em, Robin," Snow White demanded, a vengeful look on her face.

  
"Batman doesn't condone violence against children," Helena told her gamely, trying to sound stern even though she really wanted to give the girl a high five. She was about ten, holding little Donald's hand in a way that yelled 'best big sister.' Whoever thought Disney Princesses couldn't be knights in armor too hadn't met enough of them yet.

"Of course, Batman also doesn't approve of thieves," she added thoughtfully. She looked the boys over, then stopped recording, saved the vid and tucked the phone away. If she ended up having to use it, she could always edit out those last seconds and claim that the battery had been running down. Tucking the phone away in her utility belt, she got out her special-ordered batcuffs, which she really hoped she'd never have to explain to her parents. Holding them up, she gave the kids a challenging look. "Hand over the stolen property," she ordered flatly, "or I can hand you over to someone _else."_

  
"Tch. You're not really Robin. And we don't have to do any-"

  
"Let's just give them the candy," the second reaper interrupted, quiet and impatient. "She's got our faces on video, man. What do you think we're going to do about that, steal her phone?"

  
"We could," Painted Skull boldly affirmed.

  
Helena sneered. "You could try." Taking a fighting stance which she knew looked more dangerous than it actually was, she crooked a finger at them in a come hither way.

  
Reaper Number Two pressed his orange plastic bag of sweets into Snow White's arms and she accepted it with her chin held high, still giving him the evil eye. He held up his hands and began walking up the street, disclaiming any part of what might happen. _The real leader,_ Helena decided as she watched the goblin hesitate before following suit, holding out his bag to Snow and then trailing after his friend.

  
She raised her eyebrow and Painted Skull took another moment before rolling his eyes hugely. "Uch, _whatever,"_ he dismissed, as if everyone there had been bullying _him._ Then he tossed the bag he held onto the sidewalk in front of Donald's feet. The little boy's tail feathers shook when he jumped at the sudden movement and the loud _crack!_ of hard candies hitting concrete.

  
"We'll know if you don't behave after this," she told him. "Don't think we're not watching you."  
He rolled his eyes again before jogging to catch up with the friends who had deserted him, complaining loudly once he met them.

  
Half-smiling at the half-victory, knowing that she couldn't actually follow them all over town even if she wanted to, Helena looked away from the lazy tricksters and gave the Disney kids a better grin.

  
Snow dropped her candy and rushed up to Helena, reaching out and then clasping her hands as she backed up on her intention of hugging her saviour. She was looking up at Helena with stars in her blue eyes when she said, "I _knew_ you were real."

  
Helena felt her heart stop for a moment, picking the beat up more quickly afterward because in all the years she had been dressing up as superheroes, this was the first time this had happened to her. She had never been old enough, never looked the part enough and it was Halloween anyway - but Robin was her age and this was Gotham, even if they were on the outskirts of it, and somewhere not very far away she knew there was another Robin, who slept in a cave and hung out with people in scary black batsuits every day of the year.

  
And every child in Gotham should always know they were out there because if there was any city which needed them, it was theirs.

  
"Of course I'm real," Helena said with a soft smile, reaching out and squeezing Snow's shoulder. "Are you two okay?"

  
Snow nodded seriously. "I'm fine and I'd never let anyone touch Brandon."

  
Brandon stood behind his sister, peering up at Helena with a shy wonder that made her ache to be what they thought she was. She smiled at him with the unreserved brightness that was just for little kids and good friends and he cracked his own little grin in return, showing off some missing teeth.

  
"Then I've got to go on," Helena told them, hoping she didn't sound too hokey. "Try to stay in busier areas, alright? You've got a whole lot of candy now and I'd hate for you to lose it twice in one night." She walked around them, doing a little spin to briefly wave at them in a 'stay safe, citizen' way.

  
"Bye Robin!" Snow called, sounding every inch the fangirl.

  
Helena felt an extra ounce of swagger in her step at that because the idea was sinking in that being able to pass for _the_ Robin was just too deeply cool. Smirking, she decided to pull out another trace of authenticity which she had added to her accessories, deciding that there would be no better time for it. Otherwise Snow White would eventually wonder and feel silly about thinking that Robin had been wandering around the suburbs on Halloween night.

  
She reached into _that_ pocket of her belt and with a thrill of excitement, she picked her moment and then dropped the smoke pellets to the sidewalk, running like mad once the cloud of smoke appeared to cover her exit. It was something any hack magician could pull - and she really doubted that Robin would ever bother covering her exit like this outside of a seriously dangerous confrontation - but for ordinary kids out for an ordinary Halloween, it was too extraordinary a trick to expect.  She was laughing at herself as she rounded a corner, happy and proud because she had helped another believer of Robin and she was the Robin who was believed in. It made the costume feel more real, like her real secret weapon wasn't the pouch that held pepper spray and she could have somewhere better to be than home the next night.

  
Slowing down, she observed the street signs with bright eyes as she decided on the best route for sneaking up on her waiting Supergirl and scaring her to death.


End file.
